Hermione strode easily through the Ministry doors, her somewhat less-bushy-than-five-years-ago hair tied up in a bun at the base of her neck, a few loose tendrils whisping out around her ears, curling gently. Her skin, a warm peach color with faint pink traces on her cheeks, complimented her brown eyes nicely. But it was her smile that did it. She walked into work every day with a smile, no matter how bad the last day or attempt had gone. She loved her job. As Head of the Department of Magical Integration, a new Department on Level Nine at the Ministry of Magic, she got a lot of paperwork every day and had to either send people to or go on several attempts to diffuse prejudices and stop unfair hatred, and she was very good at it. She had only failed to crack one tough nut on the first visit - it took two meetings and he was completely persuaded. People smiled back at her as her professional and sensible shoes clicked on the floor steadily. She called hello to people and greeted them by name, passing Kingsley and grinning at him broadly, as was custom, and he grinned back. "Good morning, Hermione," he said.

"Good Morning, Kingsley," she said back, walking past to the elevator. It was empty; there were few people here at this time of morning who needed to use it and hadn't. She stepped inside the small, comfy area and pressed the button that said 9 on it. The gates closed, and the familiar feeling of her stomach dropping to the soles of her feet welcomed her. She smiled as her stomach rose again when the elevator proudly announced her Level and Department. The gates opened, and she took in the sight she saw every morning.

There were pictures of all Magical Schools in the world - over two thousand different paintings - hanging on the wall, side-by-side, all with different frames. Some frames were big, some were small; some gold, some silver, some bronze; some wooden, some metallic. They all suited their painting perfectly. The walls behind them, not that you saw them at first sight, were a pale yellow, cheery but not overwhelming. The floor was tiled with mosaic-looking tiles of different shades of brown, and the ceiling hung simply light fixtures, homey, and with square lamp covers, so as to not over-do the welcomed effect. There were black-rimmed furniture with creamy white cushions that lined the walls underneath the paintings in some spots. People spoke in friendly tones here - if you didn't, you didn't belong on the floor. She saw, as was usual, the chestnut desk at the end of the hall, which split into two different hallways, and she saw Mz Edelweiss already scribbling a note and putting it on Malfoy's clipboard - an assignment. Malfoy's platinum hair was combed neatly, as always, and his pointed chin was no longer caught in a haughty jutting-out phase. But she'd seen him like this for two years now, when he'd taken up the job three years after the war ended, and was used to it. Nodding to him, she said, "Malfoy."

He nodded back, already going off to finish his task. "Granger."

Hermione walked up to Mz. E's desk and said, after Draco was gone, "You sent him off early."

She snorted. Her ebony hair was streaked with gray and her face was wrinkled, but good-humoured, she was. "Need to get stuff done," she said, "And that's what assistants are for."

"Doing your work?" she asked, her voice laughing without laughter.

Mz. E didn't bat an eyelash. "Yup," she said, "Or they're for nothing else. You better get to work. I saw McLaggen drop off an arseload of papers already."

There was no use getting offended at anything Mz. E said, and Hermione new that from experience - she was blunt and believed beating around the bush was a 'pussy's sport'. Sensitivity, to her, was cowardice. She'd been in Gryffindor. This had not surprised Hermione in the least. But, at the thought of McLaggen dropping off a 'butt'-load of papers, she repressed a groan, waved her goodbye, and turned to follow the right hallway. She walked along the now-painting-bare walls, and, next to a poster of 'The Golden Trio' (which was placed outside the offices of Harry, Ron and herself), she placed her hand on her doorknob and twisted it, entering.

The expected office came into view. The Ministry's library was nothing compared to Hermione's office. The walls were lined with bookshelves; her desk, in the middle of the room and facing away from the door, had a bookshelf growing out of it that touched the ceiling, and on the back of that was another bookshelf. All furniture was mahogany, and filled with books. Her desk was filled with papers, of course, but the rest of the room was filled with books. She had a desk lamp that matched the chandelier, a small sort of paisley-patterned lamp shade, with the pattern being red-and-gold. Her room had window, just on, that she had a short bookcase under that reached the sill and a tiny bookcase over that reached the ceiling. The window's curtains only came as far down as the sill, too, and were white and lacy, easy-going, like the light that shone through them. Her carpet was soft and comfortable, and she often took her shoes off under her desk when her feet got hot, and she'd run her toes through the plush flooring.

She normally loved the sight of her office, but today, there was a stack of papers so high as to block the third row of her bookshelf sitting in the middle of it. She sighed, and sat down in her desk chair (fit for a queen), and took the stapled-together stack of papers off the top. She read the title:

Lucius Malfoy

She raised her eyebrows. She continued reading.

The council for the Wizengamot has scheduled the release of Lucius Malfoy from the Wizard prison, Azkaban, for 11/1/2003, after showing distinct signs of a C.O.H. There have been no definite changes in views as of yet. Services are required, of Head equivalency, for the following infractions:

Tomorrow! Lucius Malfoy was going to be released tomorrow! After distinct signs of a change of heart! And the Infractions list was massive, nearly twenty pages just for now-crimes against Muggle-borns, and several more pages for now-crimes against House Elves. And even more for against half-breeds, Wizards/Witches included. And the stack of papers under that was about the usual height was under it, containing nothing but a few minor cases she could assign to the Trainees, who would gladly do the job, and do it well, as most people with enthusiasm could. What she really focused on was Lucius. It said 'of Head equivalency' and that meant her. So, she had to talk to Lucius Malfoy.

In Malfoy Manor.

Fantastic.

"You're kidding!"

Harry's exclamation didn't surprise her. "Nope," she said. "He really is going to be released.

Ron frowned. "You couldn't have told me this?"

"I just did, Ronald," she said.

"This is crazy," Harry announced, to no response.

"But this is the man who watched and probably enjoyed seeing you get tortured," argued Ron.

"It is. Your point?"

"So, he's a nasty prejudiced little -"

"It's my job to deal with people like that, Ronald."

"Yes, but I'm your boyfriend," he said, somewhat angrily. "Don't you think I should have known first?"

"Two responses," she replied. "One - I told you ad Harry together, because you are my boyfriend and he is my best friend. And two - I've been a bit busy preparing for the visit, so -"

"You're visiting him?" He was definitely angry now.

"It's my job, Ronald!"

"Utterly insane," Harry proclaimed, trying to avert the subject once more. Ron ignored him and leaned forward, his arms on the table, his blue eyes intense.

"Shouldn't I come along?"

"I can handle myself," she said.

"But I should be there to help -"

"I don't need you to hold my hand, this is my job. Stop being so protective. It's annoying, like you think I can't take care of myself."

"I never said -"

"You didn't have -"

"That's enough!" Harry said with finality. "If you're going to fight like an old married couple, at least be one first, okay? Now, I want to eat my lunch, if it's alright with the two of you."

Ron looked down at his tray of the Ministry's cafeteria food and Hermione did too - she grimaced. Today's 'Tuna Surprise' was disgusting-looking, gray and lumpy, like bad mashed potatoes with no butter or cheese. "Ick," she said. "Why do you want to eat this?"

Harry laughed, obviously relieved he'd managed to change the subject. "It's food, and I need nourishment."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you really need nourishment that badly?" she joked.

His laughing face turned somber. "Yes," he said.

"Why? What happened?" Hermione asked eagerly, bending forward to hear the Auror information, as she often did. Turning down an Auror position and revolutionizing the Ministry's insides had been the right career path for her, and she was sure of it, but she still itched to know about everything going on in her best friend's and her boyfriend's life.

Harry bent forward too, and whispered conspiratorially, "There's been another sighting."

"What? Who? Where? When? Did anyone get -"

"Nobody got hurt," Harry promised."It was actually in Azkaban that he was spotted by a prisoner, and everyone else in the cell block saw him run away once he'd been seen. It was yesterday."

"Who?"

"Theodore Nott."

"But he was at Hogwarts with us!"

"He had the Dark Mark on his left arm, he was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and the prisoners all saw it."

"Are you sure they're not lying?"

"Their memories were correct, we checked."

"Wow." Hermione leaned back, almost falling off of her stool. She cursed the new seating in the cafeteria. The buzz of conversation around them was loud enough to cover their conversation, but she still felt their low voices were appropriate. "Does anyone know how he got in?"

"Nobody knows, and the Dementors are ticked off. No one knows how he got out, either - apparently, he rounded the corner and vanished."

"Does anyone know why?"

Harry shook his head. "We checked, and he spoke to nobody - just got in and out long enough to be seen and get away safely."

Ron stabbed his Tuna Surprise as if testing it for internal organs. Making sure it had none, he placed a bite in his mouth, and began to gag. Hermione laughed. "That's the first time I've seen you hate food," she said as his red hair bobbed up and down as he tried to swallow to ghastly food. And then, thinking back, she added, "Since I cooked the mushrooms in the tent."

Harry burst out laughing once more loudly, and dissolved whatever was left of the tension in the air while people gave them odd looks. And then Hermione had to join in when Ron gave him a baleful look as he continued to gag on the putrescence he'd put into his mouth.